


Double-Egded

by CalicoThunder



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, What if fic, more Klance content from my trash can, trials of marmora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalicoThunder/pseuds/CalicoThunder
Summary: What if Keith, beaten and bloody from his trials, saw a vision of Lance instead of Shiro? What if Lance was his greatest hope? Or his greatest fear?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a few posts like this on tumblr dot com and i really wanted to write it, so here it is. a little sloppy, i will def clean it up tomorrow but i need sleep so,,, enjoy!!

Keith can feel the lull of pain rooting itself deep inside his bones, depleting him to almost nothing as he nearly spills into the room. It’s the first in what feels like eons that isn’t full of Marmora warriors, prepared to push him to his limit by fist and blade.

 

“Guess I really wasn’t supposed to go through that door.”

 

He says it to no one but himself, wondering vaguely if the Kolivan had expected his move- or, for that matter, if he and Shiro could still see him.

 

Each step feels like he’s wading through something viscous, like blood, and the bottoms of his feet must surely weigh enough to drown him should he fall. The pain shoots up and down his veins like boiling water, scathing, and it flows out from his shoulder. The large gash is brutal, wide and long, and Keith thinks offhandedly that he hasn’t been hurt this bad since he was at the Garrison. Wetness trickles down the right arm of his suit.

 

Sixteen steps. That’s all it takes.

 

Shiro, patient and waiting, crosses through his mind.

 

Sixteen steps, and he collapses to the floor.

 

\--

 

He’s awoken by footsteps, echoing off the hollow metal walls. Opening his eyes is more difficult than he anticipates, but he manages to see through blurred lenses a tall figure approaching, the flecks of blue on them standing out against the neon purple that the Blade’s headquarters flaunts so loudly.

 

They step closer, and Keith looks up past his nose. The most he can give is a silent gasp, everything other action too _much_ , too _hot_ , too _painful_ -

 

“Lance?”

 

“Hey, mullet.” The Blue Paladin says, standing with his hands on his hips. He looks around with his chin high, inspecting the place. “This place definitely gives me a ‘secret order of Galra assassins’ feel.”

 

“Lance…?”

 

“I mean, c’mon- did they think they were being edgy by using a slightly brighter purple than the Empire? It’s like they wanted to be rebellious, but they’re still fond of the color scheme.” Lance laughs at himself, looking at Keith expectantly.

 

“Lance- why are you-”

 

“Here?” Lance interrupts. He plops down in front of Keith’s battered body unceremoniously, criss-crossing his legs like a young child. “We heard the Red Lion going crazy, and I came in to see what the deal was. Shiro told me about the trial, and the knife.”

 

Keith averts his eyes, clenching his fist around the knife where it lay in his hand. “My hero,” he says flatly, but the thought of a worried Lance makes breathing even harder.

 

“What’s with that thing anyway?” Lance says, narrowing his eyes at Keith’s midsection. The Red Paladin curls in protectively. “You used to play with it all the time, but you never use it?”

 

“It’s- it’s important to me. I’ve had it my whole life.” Keith manages, and he unfurls his arms and legs in attempt to sit up.

 

“Whoa whoa, relax, dropout.” Lance says. The insult has no bite- it’s almost fond as it falls on Keith’s ears- and Lance reaches out to press his hand to Keith’s forearm, keeping him steady. “Don’t go fainting again. Why’s it so important?”

 

“L-Lance,” Keith coughs, “It’s all I have. When you think of your family, the thing that’s waiting for you- that’s this, for me.” Keith triumphs in positioning himself like a mermaid, one arm holding him up while his hip digs into the floor. His hair falls into his eyes.

 

“Oh.” Lance offers, looking confused. “That’s kinda…”

 

“Sad? Pitiful? Depressing? I know.” Keith says, gaze cast at the blue crest on the chestpiece of Lance’s armor. He wonders briefly if he’ll ever wear his own again.

 

Lance smells like rocket fuel and his skincare products, with sweat and blood in the mix thanks to Keith- but his presence is welcomed all the same.

 

“I mean, it can’t really compare- what you said about my family.” Lance clarifies. “You have a family, Keith. You have us. And sure, maybe we don’t all get along all the time, but that’s what a family is. Imperfection.”

 

A few pangs of guilt and sorrow accompany the pain in Keith’s arteries, only this time flowing out from his heart in tiny rivulets.

 

“You sound like Shiro.” He says, and he gathers the strength to push up into a posture mocking Lance’s, but with a little more sag to his shoulders. He has the sudden urge to collapse again, only this time into the lap of the boy who sits so innocently in front of him.

 

“If only,” Lance muses, smiling gingerly.

 

\--

 

“Is that a hologram?” Shiro asks, turning away from the image of Lance and Keith to stare Kolivan down.

 

“His suit has the ability to create a virtual mindscape, reflecting its wearer’s greatest hopes and fears. And at this moment, your friend desperately wants to see the Blue Paladin.” The Galra answers, neon gaze never leaving the screen.

 

Shiro tunes back in, concerned.

 

\--

 

“Thanks, for- for what you said.” Keith says, carefully avoiding Lance’s idle yet piercing gaze. The blue eyes cut deep into Keith, curiosity burning.

 

“Sure. You sure battled hard, huh? All that training finally pay off?” Lance smiles, and it grows wider when Keith offers a little twitch of the lips in return.

 

“Something like.”

 

“Kolivan and Shiro said you lasted longer than anyone ever has in those trials.” Lance lets the factoid sit in the air, before tacking on, “I would’ve lasted waaay longer, but whatever.”

 

Keith feels a bubble of a laugh pop out of him.

 

“You did pretty good though.”

 

“Wow, are you complimenting me?”

 

“Only if it means getting you up faster so we can get out of here.” Lance says, and he lurches upwards to stand. He offers his hand to Keith, whose lightening mood just crashed down to the bottom of space.

 

“What?” Keith’s face draws up in hurt confusion. “We can’t leave- I haven’t awoken the blade yet.” He grips Lance’s hand regardless, and gets pulled up into an unsteady stand. He leans all his weight onto his left leg subconsciously.

 

Lance rolls his eyes. “So what? You don’t need to- you’ve finished the fighting. You’ve won. Just give them the knife, and we can go.”

 

Keith’s fingers clench around the handle of the blade again, this time tighter, and he steels his face as he finally locks onto Lance’s eyes. “No.”

 

“Why not?” Lance challenges, and this time _his_ eyebrows are meeting in puzzlement.

 

“I told you already. This knife is my family- without it, I have no way of knowing who I really am.” He says, and anger drips on the edges of his voice slowly, like syrup.

 

Lance steps closer, arms crossed, as if to examine Keith. “And I told you already- you have a family, one that cares about you. You don’t need that knife. Aren’t we enough? Isn’t Shiro enough?” He steps closer still, until he’s less than a foot away from Keith’s sunken form.

 

“Aren’t I enough?”

 

The whisper snags something in Keith, and he suffers flashbacks to Lance, battered and bloody after saving Coran from a bomb, telling Keith that they might just be a good team after all. Lance, hooting and hollering with every downed Galra ship, advocating for his bond with his Lion. Lance, comforting Hunk and Pidge when the ride gets too rough, the bad guys too big, or the Castle too quiet. Lance, keeping Keith from overworking himself on the training deck, dragging him to his room, shutting the door behind them as they fall into bed-

 

 _Lance_.

 

“Yes- I mean, no, not- I just- I- I need to know, Lance.” Keith stammers, emotion riding high in his voice.

 

“You already do. You know who you are. I can tell you: you’re emo, arrogant, hotheaded Keith, with terrible instincts and even worse hair.” He pauses to sigh exasperatedly. “See? It’s that easy. Now give them the knife, and let’s get outta here.”

 

Keith is silent, searching Lance’s face for any sign of understanding- but the Blue Paladin offers none. “I can’t do that.” He says, voice stern, but he finds himself unable to look into Lance’s eyes again.

 

Lance scoffs. “Oh, I forgot to mention- Selfish Keith, who only cares about himself.”

 

Keith’s eyes widen at the sudden poison in Lance’s tone, but the Blue Paladin continues.

 

“God, you’re the most conceited son of a- remember when you tried to leave Allura with Zarkon because you were too scared to face him? To rescue her?”

 

Bile builds up in his stomach in the form of bitterness and remorse, the former aimed directly at Lance’s sneer. “I was thinking like a Paladin, Lance.”

 

“You were thinking of yourself. Give them the knife, Keith.” Lance says, voice dropping considerably as he clutches Keith’s free hand, holding it tenderly. He brushes a strand of hair behind Keith’s ear with his long, gentle fingers. “Please, let’s just go home.”

 

Keith gets his gaze back to Lance’s after a moment, letting the cool blue eyes ease his pain, lips drawn in a silent line as he reads Lance, the Blue Paladin, his friend, his teammate, his- his-

 

_Don’t say it._

 

The knife sits heavy in his hand, taunting him with visions and truths about himself, his family, his life before the Garrison and that stupid desert, and Voltron and the Galra. A time before complications and issues and too many homes, a time he’ll never know if he walks out with Lance.

 

“I’ve made my choice.” He says, dropping his chin to his chest and holding the knife behind his limping leg. He half-expects Lance to squeeze his hand tighter, or to try and snatch the knife altogether- but instead, his Blue Paladin steps away completely, shaking his head in disappointment.

 

“Then you’ve chosen to be alone, Keith. Good luck.” Lance whispers, eyes narrowed, and then he’s stalking off towards the door without another glance back.

 

Keith watches the sway of his hips and the back of his armor, and the remorse from before spills into his heart before he can stop it. “Lance, wait. Lance. _Lance!”_ His voice cracks like thunder on the last cry, but Lance doesn’t stop walking and soon he’s disappearing in a flash of white light.

 

\--

 

Keith finds himself in that desert, still hurting, from the cut on his shoulder and the cracks on his heart- but it’s all wiped away when he hears the man behind him.

 

“Keith.”

 

“Dad?”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and loving Lance like me. Seriously. I'm obsessed. I'm putting him in everything. 
> 
> (help me)
> 
> Comments make me cartwheel down the street, pls let me know what you thought!!!


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